


Easter Bernie

by Weshallc



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Angst, Easter, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mild Language, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-15 22:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weshallc/pseuds/Weshallc
Summary: Happy Easter from Poplar-on-Tweaven.Trixie Franklin is ready to start her new job and comes Up North for Easter, to visit her friends in the village of Poplar. How long will it take before she upsets Bernie, terrifies Paddy and impresses her new employers Patsy and Delia?Oops!I FORGOT THE SONGS, Eggs will roll! (Crown Jukebox has been updated on spotify also)





	1. Maundy Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> Bernie still has a mild case of potty mouth, I have spoken to her about it.
> 
> The Title is All Ginchy's Work!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is it? Doesn’t matter what the temperature is in the surrounding areas railway stations are always bloody freezing.  
> Welcome back to Poplar-on-Tweaven folks.

**I'm not the man they think I am at home. Oh no no no I'm a rocket man. (Rocket Man, Elton john)**

“The first ever passenger steam train ran from here. I mean the first ever in the whole world, that is amazing." Paddy stood back to admire the ornate plaque on the platform wall.

“Bet it wasnae on time either,” came the curt reply.

“The first fully operated steam railway, of course, ran from Liverpool.”

“Of course. Paddy, I dinae like this mocha. It’s a wee bit living up tae it’s name, yer ken? mock’a’ coffee, like not real coffee.“

“Have mine then, Berns,” the Merseysider offered her his disposable cup.

“What is it?” she screwed up her nose.

“Flat white.”

“Why doesnae that surprise me?” She sniffed and refrained from taking his gift.

Paddy continued reading the historical plaques, “Robert Stephenson, you know the Geordie who built the Rocket, Bernie.”

“Aye Paddy, I went to school,” Bernie responded and then more quietly, “more recently than yer’sel.” 

“We saw it with Tim in Newcastle last summer.”

“Oh yes. How could I forget,” the dull acknowledgement came.

Unaffected, Paddy continued with his history lesson, “He built the first passenger steam locomotive called Locomotion Number One.”

“Well bugger me, he must have been up all night thinking of that name.”

“This is history Bernie, our history.”

“Well we will be bleedin' history Paddy, if this blummin’ Kings Cross train does not get in soon and you don’t stop reading those plaques out loud.”

Paddy moved reluctantly across the cold station platform, on a beautiful Spring day, towards frosty Bernie sat on the freezing black wrought iron seat. He balanced his rejected scalding coffee on the top of the bench. Bernie felt she may have come across a wee bit grumpy and handed Paddy her unwanted coffee and took his in return.

“I never knew you liked mocha.”

“I don’t that’s why I am giving it to you,” she winked mischievously, “I just had a craving for something chocolatey.”

Paddy smiled knowingly and shook his head, sniffing his new beverage suspiciously. Bernie took a tiny sip of her new drink.

“Did you put sugar in this?” Paddy just sighed and started to wander back to the wall. Bernie, feeling she may be appearing somewhat ungrateful, tried to make conversation.

“Is it a big station at Liverpool, bigger than this?”

“Nine Platforms.”

“How many cafes?”

“Sorry?”

“Well this has two. Kings Cross has about half-a-dozen, so how many has Lime Street?”

“I have no idea Bernie.”

“Oh, but fairly big, you would say, four, maybe five?”

“Perhaps. It does have nine platforms though, so if you were using a more traditional method for gauging the size of a railway station, I would say it’s a fair size.”

“Nice.”

Paddy looked at Bernie, “Just go to one of the two cafe’s at this station and get one, you will feel better.”

“I am fine,” the Scot snapped.

“No you’re not. Go and get one.” Paddy put his hand in his trouser pocket searching for change.

“No! You know I can’t, stop putting temptation in my way.”

“Only I will know, I won’t tell.” he whispered in her ear.

“I will know and He will know. It’s only two more days, I can manage, ” she pleaded, not sure whether with him or with herself.

“Thank God for that,” Paddy proclaimed.

“Yer didnae need to come today, yer know,” Bernie muttered angrily.

Paddy plonked himself down on the attractive but uninviting seat next to Bernie. He took a deep breath and admitted he knew that. He decided to confess his true motives for accompanying her.

“I wondered if after Trixie’s train comes in, we could go get a drink, maybe a bite to eat,” he asked tentatively.

Bernie wrinkled her brow and turned to look at him, “You live in a pub, why would you want to do that?”

“Well, it’s actually business, not pleasure,” Paddy explained. “Buckles Brewery supplies a pub in town and I think they are undercutting me.”

“Paddy, it’s a town boozer, pricing is always different compared to rural trade. Where is this place?”

“I am talking about the Station Hotel,” revealed Paddy.

“Where’s that?”

Paddy let a wide grin tease his lips, “The Station, Berns.”

“Yep, where is it?”

“Not far.” Paddy chuckled into his cooling mocha. “So do you mind?”

“Well I am not sure it’s what Trixie will be expecting after a three-and-a-half hour journey. I think she would rather just get back to Poplar and have a cuppa, and a fag knowing Trixie.”

 

Paddy was quiet for a while, as Bernie craned to read the arrival board for the umpteenth time.

“Are you worried about something, Paddy.” Bernie was unable to tolerate stewing Paddy any longer.

“It’s just I heard the Station was more competitive than the Crown, but I also heard it’s in trouble.” Paddy turned to look at Bernie properly, “Three rival pubs have closed in the last year, Bernie.”

“Rival!” Bernie screamed in mock indignation, disturbing a woman close by, trying to balance a large suitcase decorated with South American animals of some description. The dramatist grabbed Paddy’s knee, “The Crown does not have any rivals. We are beyond compare!”

Paddy couldn’t help relax and started to chuckle at Bernie’s theatricals, “Sweetheart, no business is secure in this current climate.”

“Oh my giddy aunt, if you are going to start on about Brexshit again, I am getting straight on that train Trixie gets off and staying on until Waverly. You can preach to Trixie. She will be thrilled.”

Paddy took a deep breath, “Bernie this is serious, this is our future I am worried about.”

Bernie bit her lip and looked down at her hand still resting on Paddy’s leg. Paddy noticed the change in his companion’s demeanor and continued, “Tim’s future in particular.”

On more stable ground, Bernie added, “I don’t think Tim wants to go into the pub trade.” She spoke quietly, she didn’t want to hurt Paddy’s feelings, but knew that the boy’s dad was just as aware of this as she was. Tim intended to leave Tweavenside and was currently looking at universities all over the UK. “Last I heard he was looking at veterinary science with a musical history degree on the side.”

Paddy smirked and then laughed at Bernie’s joke, not entirely sure if it was one, he grabbed her hand. 

“The Crown is still Tim’s future even if he never sets foot in the place again. It’s what will pay for his gap year, off to study Alpacas and duffle coat wearing bears, in darkest Peru. The Crown will provide his beer money to spend in a lesser establishment than the one he grew up in. And more than likely it will pay for him to piss in a bottle at whatever festivals he decides to attend.”

Bernie was giggling so hard now, the over luggaged lady was staring, “But the Crown is sound as a pound.” She regained her composure, “We really don’t have any rivals like the town boozers, we are the only pub in the villages, for miles. The Teacups is in a right state, last I heard. Ursula was made bar manager, can you believe that?”

Paddy shook his head, “She couldn’t run a...well obviously she can’t.”

Bernie giggled nodding and continued, “Town pubs don’t inspire loyalty, kids just move from hole to hole, looking for the cheapest drinks and loudest tunes. You know all this.” 

She gripped his hand harder. “Our regulars are loyal and the covers are up, Vi’s parmo’s are legendary. Talk to Fred about the beer, he isn’t just your supplier, he is your friend.” 

Paddy enclosed Bernie’s hand between both of his, “ _Our_ regulars?”

His emphasis on the word _our_ made Bernie blush the rose pink that Paddy thought made her look adorable.

She smiled, “Well _we_ do have the best barmaid in Tweavenside, probably the world.”

They both added at once, “Valerie Dyer.”

 

***

“So where do you hide the three bears?” Trixie asked staring wide eyed around Bernie’s new home. 

Bernie laughed in spite of herself, “Well one is hiding under the bed because it’s too soft,” she said joining in, “and the other two buggered off because porridge is banned in this house.”

Trixie giggled, “Oh Bernie, it’s idyllic, you must be so happy here. You even have a little patio out the back.” Trixie looked out of the window at her friends tiny back garden with the crazy pavement, colourful flower pots and the painted white iron table with two chairs.

Bernie blushed. “Well it’s only wee, but I like it,” she replied humbly. 

“I love it, if I need to relocate to Poplar for Mount Busby inc., we would have so much fun living here, together.”

Bernie’s mouth fell open, she regained her composure, “The second bedroom is very small Trixie, you wouldn’t fit your shoe collection in there, never mind anything else. You would be much better off at the farm.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow at her friend and took her baccy tin out of her handbag, but was interrupted by the lady of the house, “Smoking outside please.”

Trixie tutted and shoved the offending tin back in her bag, “I will just have a biscuit, you always have nice biscuits.”

Bernie shook her head, “Not a the moment.” Trixie looked blank.

“It’s Lent, Trixie. I always give up biscuits for Lent, you know that.”

“Oh that’s why you’re so grumpy,” Trixie teased her friend.

Bernie decided to ignore her and asked, “So what have you given up this year? I see it's not the fags.”

Trixie thought for a moment and then announced, “The Mission.” 

Bernie shook her head and placed a milk bottle on her small oak dining table. The mention of cigarettes had Trixie looking longingly towards the stable-style back door. Her attention turned back to her host,

“I hope you make Paddy sit outside with those filthy smelling vape pens?”

“I do,” assured Bernie.

“Even first thing in the morning?”

“Trixie, you are as subtle as a brick, don’t give up the job with CID.” Bernie sighed and poured the tea into the awaiting mugs.

As a housewarming gift, Violet had bought her a pretty floral teapot and Lady Antonia had knit a bright red tea cosy for it, so she was determined to use them. Even, as Trixie had commented, it was all a bit of a faff-on.

 

“Talking of CID, how are the newly weds?”

“Well Inspector Noakes is extremely busy, but she still finds time to pop in the Crown and come to church when she can.” 

“Splendid,” added Trixie. 

Bernie continued, “Peter seems to be enjoying his new career in security, I don’t really know what it’s all about, but him and Paddy talk about it for hours.”

“Riveting I imagine,” Trixie took a sip of her tea.

Bernie nodded and pulled a face, “He looked very smart the other day, he was driving some flash motor for some local dignitary or celeb.”

“Do you have celebrities up here?” Trixie interrupted putting down her _Fancy A Brew_ mug.

Bernie frowned, “That lad that won, Xtra Voice on Ice, on the telly last year, you know him, he was unforgettable. What was his name?” Bernie’s forehead frowned in thought, “Anyway, he lives in Appleby Thornton, he comes in the Crown, Paddy hasn’t a clue, but Val makes her presence felt.”

Trixie laughed louder than expected and Bernie picking up her _Don't Mind If I Do_ mug, joined in, “Then there are the footballers, they spend quite a bit of money round here.” 

Trixie’s eyes lit up, “They are not Premier League though are they?”

“They were and will be again. We haven’t all got money to throw at prima donnas and divas like some teams I could mention. No room for soft lads up here.”

Bernie was shocked at her own rather strong and indignant response, she didn’t even follow football. She had no idea what the difference was between a good challenge or a dirty foul. It seemed as far as Jack and Tim were concerned, it depended completely on whose side you were on. She couldn’t understand why she felt personally attacked by Trixie’s insinuations towards her home side.

Trixie also surprised at Bernie’s passionate response, moved the conversation on, “So is Peter, Poplar’s answer to the The Bodyguard? Richard Madden eat your heart out.” Trixie giggled wickedly.

Bernie tried hard not to, but giggled back, “Well maybe in Chummy’s eyes, we don’t have those kind of conversations,Trixie.” 

“Why does that not surprise me?” groaned Trixie, “Did you ever return those handcuffs?” she winked as she held up her mug.

“We both know those were official police equipment and before you ask, I am sure Peter returned his on leaving the force too.”

Trixie smiled into her tea, she was very much looking forward to being in Poplar-on-Tweaven over Easter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the "always has time, never gets fed-up" Fanfic and Tumblr's Love the Turners, for invaluable help and support. Roguesnitch for providing another gem of a conversation for me to exploit, just keep them coming.


	2. Good Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for spending some time on Tweavenside this Easter.

**There is a green hill far away. Without a city wall (Alexander, Brennan, Cass, Horsley)**

Bernie sat calmly next to the little less calm Tim, ready to turn the pages of the worn creased sheet music. Reverend Julia was in position in the pulpit, in full regalia today, befitting the occasion. In black with a striking red scarf Lucille Anderson stood composed in front of the choir, smiling reassuringly at those assembled nervously before her, also dressed in black and red. The vicar nodded at Bernie, the signal for the service to start. Bernie took one last glance down the crowded pews, full of the shuffling and mumbling. She sighed. 

As if on cue, the recently closed, dark oak inner doors opened and a tall man in his late 40’s dressed smartly in a dark suit entered. He was accompanied by a striking blonde woman in her late twenties, dressed in a fitted sage suit. The odd couple tiptoed in trying to look inconspicuous and failing badly. Bernie’s shoulders dropped and she permitted herself a tight smile. She nudged the teen next to her and whispered, “He is here.” The boy rolled his eyes and pressed the pedals below his feet.

Paddy and Trixie had found a seat next to Matron Crane, “Cutting it fine you two.”

“Barrel of Bernie’s Bitter needed changing,” as if that was explanation enough. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Phyll?”

“Could say same about you Paddy, dare say I am here for the same reasons.” Paddy lifted an eyebrow, Phyllis continued, “Supporting my family, Councillor.”

Paddy smiled and rose to his feet, as Trixie placed half a stiff hymn book, she was wrestling with, in front of him.

He looked up to see Tim looking so grown-up and self-assured in this environment that had previously been so foreign to him. It was still reassuring to see Bernie by his side. The dark blonde in the simple navy blue dress looked up, she gave the swiftest wink that only the person it was meant for caught. Trixie shook slightly as Paddy flunked the first note at the sight of Bernie’s smile.

#There is a green hill far away without a city wall #

***

 

“So anyone fancy a pint?” Paddy grinned. 

Tim had stayed behind to talk to Lucille. Phyllis had agreed to have a night cap with Reverend Julia. Bernie had caught up with Trixie, who was puffing on a stubby and Paddy, battling with something that smelt like parma violets. The pair lent against the cool church wall, they had been chatting easily about things they had observed throughout the evening service.

“Well I certainly do,” replied Trixie instantly, “but it will have to be a pint of diet lemonade,” she sighed wistfully.

Paddy wondered whether he should apologize for his lack of thought. But the fact was, he lived in and ran a pub, there was no getting around that. To try and insulate Trixie from that was nigh on impossible and as he looked at her in that moment, she did not seem in any need of protection or over sensitivity.

Bernie on the other hand did not look as carefree, “It’s Good Friday Paddy, we have just been to church.”

“I know, thought we could all do with a bit of unwinding,” some more than others he thought.

“I didn’t think you would open at all today, in the circumstances.” Bernie shrugged but there was disapproval in her voice.

“Oh Bernie, the laws about closing on Good Friday changed years ago,” he tried to sound nonchalant, but she could hear a hint of guilt in his defence.

Bernie wasn’t letting him off that easily, “Yes, to allow freedom of choice, you could have chosen not to open.”

Paddy was looking nervous, Trixie amused.

“We did have fish on the specials board today,” Paddy was struggling.

Trixies amusement trickled into the night air.

“Cod Parmo does not make up for Violet, Valerie and Jack not being able to attend service on a Good Friday.”

“Violet could have gone if she wanted to, we had stopped serving by then. Jack and Val didn’t request any time off or early finishes today. If they had I would have accommodated them.” Paddy had no idea why she was trying to pick a fight, he had attended the Good Friday service, wasn't that enough?

Bernie snorted and marched ahead. Trixie had stopped laughing and wasn’t finding things as funny. She linked Paddy’s arm, partly because of the vexing cobbles and partly so she could lower her voice.

“It’s just the time of the year, Paddy,” she whispered.

“April?”

“No Easter, well Lent to be specific.”

“You are not serious,” Paddy asked incredulously.

“Well she is always a bit on the grizzly side, when she has to give up biscuits every year,” Trixie bit her lip 

“Every year, this happens every year?” Paddy sounded flummoxed.

“I have never seen her this upset though, it might be more to do with...” Trixie stopped.

Paddy didn’t notice, he was too busy thinking, “You said _had to_ , there is no _had to_ about this, it is ridiculous.”

Bernie had reached her little cottage and was fiddling in her handbag for her front door key. Cursing Trixie for insisting she locked up. Paddy was beside her and took the key straight off her once she had retrieved it. He put his arm around her and guided her firmly to the nearby Crown. Outside Val and Jack were just getting into Val’s car. They waved enthusiastically before they drove off, Paddy was relieved to see them gone. He waved back and so did Trixie from about five feet behind, still not fully competent on the cobbles. 

 

Inside Paddy lifted Bernie from the waist and sat her down on her favourite stool and told her to wait there. She huffed but did as she had been told.

Paddy then went to the inn door, where Trixie had just arrived and gave her Bernie’s key. He asked her if she wouldn’t mind giving the couple a few minutes. Trixie went to say something, but instead kissed Paddy on the cheek, squeezed his arm and left.

Bernie swung round on her stool and watched Paddy move behind the bar. He stood opposite her and from under the bar he placed a packet onto the counter. Bernie looked down at the packet of Pink Wafer biscuits in front of her. She gulped and sniffed.

Paddy pushed the carton towards her, “Have one.”

Bernie glared at him and wailed, “You know, I can’t, why are you being so mean.”

“Because I can’t bear seeing you so miserable, it’s not worth it Bernie.”

Bernie sniffed and was unable to stem the flow of tears tumbling from her eyes.  
“It’s not the biscuits, it’s not Lent’s fault.”

Paddy remained quiet, too afraid to ask what the problem was, a familiar feeling of foreboding was making its way through his body. He reached behind him and placed a tumbler glass under the premium gin optic, he added some ice left in the bucket and plopped in a black straw. He put it in front of the unhappy woman sat at the bar. He deftly removed the cap off a tonic water with the bar secured bottle opener and sat it next to the glass, for Bernie to add as she wished.

“Tell me.”

He handed Bernie a serviette from the holder and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

“Trixie...” Bernie began, Paddy broke in, 

“Oh no, what has she said, honestly she just doesn't think before she speaks...”

Bernie’s turn to interrupt, “It wasn’t Trixie...someone said something to her and she told me.”

“Who? Someone at church...or the Crown?” Paddy said incredulously.

“No,” Bernie continued slowly breathing each word, “The Mission.” 

Paddy stopped for a moment, he hadn’t been expecting this, it was out of his territory. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, this was part of Bernie’s life that was a mystery to him, it was unknown. 

“Go on,” he eventually added.

Bernie bit her lip and between sobs explained; that when Trixie had gone to the Mission office to tell them she had found full-time employment elsewhere and was leaving. Remarks had been made questioning; what was the attraction of this Poplar-on-Tweaven? The village that had taken two of their hardest workers and most passionate evangelists from them. Paddy did raise an eyebrow at that point, he wasn't sure if Trixie had introduced the _two_ or Bernie was just being kind.

“So that was a compliment, that’s nothing to get upset about,” he said as cheery as he could watching Bernie obviously hurting. He was holding her hand is his, stroking her palm. Bernie shook her head. Paddy knew she saw the good in everyone, so this sense of doubt concerned him, he didn’t want to brush off her anxieties,

“Well there might be some sour grapes or even jealousy. You have both done well for yourselves. No one could dispute Trixie has fallen on her feet, being taken under Patsy’s wing. You have your own home now and two very desirable jobs,” he give a cheeky grin trying to comfort her.

Bernie gathered herself and blurted out, “They think I have turned my back on them and even worse, led Trixie astray too”

Paddy really had to hold in a snort. Bernie, on occasion could be shrouded in a mist of grumpiness, that never really had any substance or lasted any length like a fragile sea fret. But the idea of the devout Bernadette leading the worldly, streetwise Beatrix Franklin astray, was hard to comprehend.

“I am sure that’s not true, you know how dramatic Trixie is, it’s the way she told it.”

“They are disappointed in me, I have let them down,” Bernie was inconsolable, she just managed to sniff, ”They think I have betrayed them.” 

Paddy didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know these people, he hardly knew Trixie. He did know Bernie and this was his worst nightmare coming into reality. His girlfriend’s obsession with service and doing the right thing, being in the right place was reasserting its hold. He thought, hoped, they had got passed this. 

Inwardly he cursed Trixie for probably innocently telling Bernie about the horrible conversation. He would have to give her the benefit of the doubt, she adored Bernie and as far as he could tell approved of him. She had been thoughtless not destructive. He cursed the leaders, he had never met and hoped he never would. Again they could have meant no harm, Trixie could have misinterpreted their misplaced humour, They might be horrified to learn the distress they had caused their former golden girl. 

Paddy let go of Bernie’s hand and walked round to her side of the bar and wrapped his arms around the sad looking soul perched on the bar stool. The publican held her close stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head while she sobbed into his best shirt.

****

As Good Friday turned into not so certain Saturday. Paddy sat on Peggy and Frank’s bench against the back wall of the Crown Inn. He watched the bulbous full moon form contrasting shadows across the Cleveland Hills. He puffed on his parma violet vaporizer and sneered at the mechanism and pushed it onto the table he was tapping his foot against, in an uneven rhythm. 

He was focused on only one thing, how could he get Bernie Mannion to truly trust in him, Poplar and most of all herself? How could he stop her trying to always please others and be able to live a life that pleased her? He had considered, especially after the Noakes’ wedding, that a ring might allow her some sense of security, but Bernie wasn’t one for empty gestures. No, for them an engagement would mean plans and dates and he knew Bernie wasn't ready for that. 

Paddy felt out of his depth, things had been so different with Marianne. In spite of their differences in life views, personalities and backgrounds, they had known pretty much straight away they would end up spending the rest of their lives together. As it turned out her life. 

Bernie was completely different their relationship felt like a 3D game of snakes and ladders. He would climb the dizzy heights of Bernie’s love, one step at a time. Just to feel the snake of doubt, cynically hissing in his ear. He sipped on his Aberlour malt he had brought out with him, in need of something to take the sting out of the memory of Bernie’s tears, still ringing in his ears. But the teasing Speyside tang on his lips and the sweet, but spicy finish, only reminded him of her.


	3. Easter Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good Friday was a bit angsty, but that's our Bernie. Do you know what we haven't had for a while-to lighten the mood, big, woolly, friendly, South American, very popular in North Yorkshire?

**I hear footsteps creeping up behind me. Saying "You don't have to be alone, you know"(Come Home, Cattle & Cane)**

Paddy stood with his back against a familiar barn door, he swished his _Bottle It_ Ale. His eyes were fixed on the thirty-something in smart dark jeans and a long white shirt with butterflies and light reflecting sequins embroidered into it. Her hair was loose, catching the spring sunshine, she was laughing with her friends. Damn, he thought, no wonder he was feeling so insecure.

A hand touched his arm, the long pale fingers with the scarlet nail varnish, signalled to him it wasn’t Inspector Chummy. Trixie stood beside him nursing a mug of tea, 

“I think the crisis is over, she seems to be enjoying herself today,” she brightly attempted to reassure him.

Paddy turned towards Trixie, he was surprised at the edge in his own voice, “Why didn’t you tell me about those sods at the Mission, instead of waffling on about the cookie monster.”

Trixie held on tighter to Paddy’s arm. “I tried too, you were the one fixated on pink bleedin’ wafers.”

Paddy went to bite back, but suddenly saw a glint in his opponents eye and started to laugh.

“She seemed OK about it when I told her Paddy, it wasn’t until much later I realized it had eaten away at her,” Trixie wasn’t great at apologies, but she knew she had handled the situation badly, “I should have known, you are right.”

“Well as you say she seems OK today, probably because she knows she can have a biscuit tomorrow,” he joked weakly.

“Don’t find me rude, but I do have my own problems today.” 

Paddy looked at her with surprise and maybe a hint of disdain, “What, modeling a few scarfs and mittens?” 

“Paddy have you any idea why I am here?” She shook her head.

“Mmm nope can’t say I have, but then I am not sure what any of these people are doing here, who are they all?”

Paddy looked at the sea of faces milling about the Mount Busby lawn. Bernie was in the middle of them now, brandishing a silver tray of partially full champagne flutes. Paddy would rather she was stood next to him drinking champagne, but she did seem to be enjoying herself. What made him more vexed was another young woman, also dressed in smart jeans and attractive white blouse, holding a similar tray.

“More to the point Trixie, what am I doing here? and more importantly why are my bar staff on a Bank Holiday weekend?” If Trixie thought she had been forgiven, Paddy’s tone made her doubt. 

“Paddy I have no idea what you are doing here, I didn't invite you. I did invite everyone else, these are my contacts.” she retorted back giving no quarter. Paddy looked at her confused.

She continued with a smattering of arrogance, “And Bernie and Val are working for me this afternoon.”

Paddy scoffed, “You can’t afford them.”

Straight back, “Patsy can, anyway they are doing it as a favour.”

“So why are the great and good of Tweavenside gathered here today,” he huffed.

“I told you, I invited them,” she gave back.

“You only got here two days ago, how did you manage that?” Paddy was suddenly interested.

“Oh you philistine! I sent carrier pigeons to them all from London,” the laugh was hard.

“Is that Lucille? You have got Lucille handing out drinks. Do you have no shame?”

“Val says she is a natural, you should think about hiring her, isn’t that where you usually find your bar staff, the church.” She was gone before he could reply.

xxxxx

“Can I interest you in a glass of bubbly, Inspector Chummy?”

“Well it would be rude not to, as I am off duty and just Chummy. Thank you Bernie.”

“Can I be so bold to ask, who is running the Crown?”

“Oh shush! Paddy is not happy. Evie, Violet and Jack are holding the fort and Tim helps more when his dad isn’t there.”

“Well the match was yesterday, so at least you don’t have to worry about the football crowd. Barring them, the whole of Tweavenside appear to be here. So they might not be too stretched.”

Bernie looked around at the invited guests. Trixie had done very well. She recognized a few well known faces. For someone based in London and only putting a foot in Poplar once, her friend had done a good job of seeking out the local money. She glanced at Trixie who was looking rather pale, her house guest had ran through the planned afternoons events and read her pitch to Bernie several times. Bernie had always been good with numbers and checked out all Trixie’s estimated figures. Val, Lucille and herself had come over early to help her set up. They had spent Good Friday putting together Mount Busby Alpaca Bags full of freebees, Trixie had somehow managed to beg, borrow or steal. 

“Can I go now?” the vibration of his breath on her neck made her almost drop her tray.

“Evie will phone if she needs you. Trixie is doing her speal next and then it’s going to get busy when people start spending and discussing possible future contracts.”

“What has any of this got to do with me? I am not going to order alpaca wool beer mats, am I?”

“Paddy this is important Trixie is on trial here, a lot depends on how well she does today.” Bernie frowned.

“But it’s Patsy and Delia, not Dragons Den.” Paddy really didn’t get it.

“You know you are always going on about us doing stuff together, does that just mean things you want to do. This is my friend and this is a big deal for her. We are here to support her.”

Paddy thought better of bringing up his recent church visit and the elaborate plans they were making for Easter Sunday.

Bernie flounced off with her tray. He looked at Trixie talking to Patsy and Delia, maybe he had fallen for her bravado to easily and missed something. Yes, the Two Loves may have been drawing their pension for a few years now, but they still ran a good business from the farm. They had for many years, always adapting with age and the times. Now they were setting out on this new venture, an extension of the alpaca walks. Patsy was still producing art, maybe not at the rate she once did, but her name still sold well. He looked at Delia Busby’s face in deep conversation with a nervous looking Trixie. Patsy had a big heart and may want to help Trixie, but the former Welsh Nursing Sister, was now a shrewd business woman and she wasn’t about to dispense any handouts.

“Afternoon Doc.” 

Paddy was dragged out of his reverie, “Pete what are you doing here, alpaca socks is it?”

“Security.”

Paddy grinned, “Don’t tell me, favour to Trixie. The woman has been in Poplar for five minutes and seems to have everyone wrapped around her little finger.”

“Well Camilla asked, we have a soft spot for the farm, our first date and all that.”Peter explained. Paddy looked confused.

“Don’t you remember Doc, last time Ms Franklin was here, the alpaca walk.”

Paddy smiled at Pete’s professionalism towards his employer, even though she probably wasn’t paying him. “But you had been seeing each other for years.”

“Yes, but it was the first time we had attended a social occasion on our own doorstep, together. It felt like a proper date, Camilla said as much. She looked at the Two Loves, the vicar and his missus and you and Berns and I could tell she wanted that and so did I.”

Paddy glanced over at the barn remembering the bust up him and Bernie had that night, choosing to dwell on the making up. 

“So that was when I decided to jack it all in and hand in my badge. So Camilla could progress in the Force, but also so we could stop messing about and make a commitment.”

“You decided that looking at me and Bernie?” laughed Paddy ironically.

xxxxx

Paddy moved aimlessly to the outdoor seating area and took a chair at the back. Peter's words were playing through his mind. Bernie, minus tray, made him shuffle in one place and took his chair. Her eyes were on Trixie, who was stood on a small platform holding a microphone. Bernie gave her a thumbs up and then to his surprise grabbed his hand and squeezed it without looking at him. She looked as nervous as the speaker, her face reminded Paddy of Marianne, the day of Tim’s first nativity play. He used his other hand to encase Bernies and settled them on his lap. 

“She will be great,” he whispered.

Bernie turned to him for the first time since she sat down, “I said a wee prayer.”

“Well there you go, the job’s a good'un.”

Bernie smiled and leaned into his shoulder as Trixie advised everyone that all the details from the talk were contained in the documentation in the freebee bags.

Paddy had no idea what Trixie talked about, she lost him at “Alpaca”. He gathered from the frequent laughter and Bernie’s release in the tension on his hand, that it had gone well. The applause at the end sealed this thought, the smile on Delia’s face and the amount of air kissing going on confirmed this. Bernie was soon up and to the front, in the midst of all things woolen.

Val handed Paddy another bottle of Buckle’s Brewery beer,

“Don’t think this gets you out of working tonight, we have a meeting remember.”

Val pulled a face and added, “She did well.” Paddy nodded

Val went on, “Although the alpacas and the lambs went a long way, I think they won everyone over.”

Paddy nodded and took a sip of his beer and then stopped, “Lambs? Mount Busby doesn't have any sheep.”

Val looked up and pursed her lips, “Farm next door does.”

“That’s quite a walk, Val.”

“Trixie brought the lambs here, well Reggie and Fred did technically.”

“That’s illegal, that's sheep rustling and highly irresponsible, didn’t you tell her?”

“Paddy calm down the ewes came too.” Paddy shook his head. Val continued, “They were a big hit. Plus the couple of orphans that needed feeding, they sealed the deal.”

Paddy shook his head in disbelief again.

xxxx

Val, Lucille, Bernie and Paddy walked into the Crown. Evie behind the bar asked how it all had gone? They replied in the order they entered,

“Alright.”  
“Lovely.”  
“She was fabulous.”  
“How’s everything been here?”

Evie smiled, “It’s been fairly quiet, but that’s Bank Holidays for you, can go either way.” 

“You managed though?” Paddy needed more.

“Mr. Turner, I have been pulling pints, before you pulled your first girlfriend.”

Paddy took no notice. Lucille made an embarrassed squeak as Val chuckled at Paddy being put in his place, however un-PC, she did enjoy Evie’s retorts.

“Get yourself away Evie,” she said taking her place behind the bar.

“I thought we were having this meeting, see if we all know what we are doing tomorrow.”

Val made a face, “Forgot about that.”

xxxx 

Most of Poplar-on-Tweaven were assembled in the Crown snug, Val had offered to tend the bar. Phyllis, Evie and Vi were deep in conversation in a corner seat. Fred balanced on a stumpy stool. Lucille sat next to Paddy, who was on a chair at the end. Bernie was perched on his knee unable to settle waiting for Trixie’s return, she had stayed behind to be debriefed by Delia. 

“They do know the time” said Evie in a loud whisper looking at her watch.

At that Reverend Julia entered the snug, apologising profusely for being late.Tom Hereward and Bobby following behind. Bernie jumped off Paddy’s knee and everyone eventually got seated.

Val followed in the _God Sqaud_ as Jack called them, mainly to annoy Bernie and Lucille. She made sure everyone had drinks and pushed a few bags of crisps and nuts on the table. Fred asked if she had any pork scratchings and was hushed by Vi.

“Shall we make a start,” Phyllis cleared her throat.

“Do I need to take minutes?” asked a nervous Bobby. Paddy and Julia both shook their heads.

“It’s just an informal meeting lass, to see if everyone knows what they are doing tomorrow.” 

“Still wouldn't be a miss,” cut in Tom, he gestured at his wife's bag. Bobby quickly took out a pen and notebook and started scribbling. Phyllis and Evie shared a look.

Bernie was now stood behind Paddy’s chair and in her nervous tension waiting for news of Trixie, was scratching his neck every time she found something funny. Which he was finding very distracting.

“So this is the first Poplar-on-Tweaven, Crown and Church, Easter Festival,” Phyllis began again.

“Didn't we agree it was, Church and Crown,” interrupted Tom. 

Everyone looked at each other, Bernie dug her nails into the back of Paddy's neck. 

“What do the posters say,” enquired Vi.

“They just say Poplar Easter Festival and then times and venues,” responded Julia.

“OK, but I think with it being a religious festival, Church should come first.” Tom continued. “Paddy is that all right with you?” in a tone that didn’t sound like a question.

Paddy just shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake Bernie off at the same time.

“Right,” said Phyllis, “The first Poplar-on-Tweaven, _Church_ and Crown, Easter Festival.”

Bernie grabbed the back of Paddy’s neck just as Bobby asked, “Sorry, are they any apologies for absence.”

Bernie dug in her fingers and Paddy hid a yelp in a cough.

“I was absent, but I am here now,” Trixie stood at the snug door.

“Sorry,” said Tom, “this is a private meeting for those who reside or work in Poplar.”

Bernie was now pulling on Paddy’s ear.

“Well that is me then, I am now a Poplar resident and employee. I qualify on both accounts.” 

Everyone stared at the newcomer, “That is if Mount Busby is classed as Poplar.”

“It certainly is,” cleared up Phyllis.

To Paddy’s relief, Bernie moved from behind him and hugged Trixie’s neck instead. 

“I've signed a years contract and here is the best bit, I will be based in Poplar and commute to London when necessary.”

Val had joined them. “Oh, Trixie that is wonderful.”

“Well Done kid!” smiled Phyllis, then everyone started talking at once.

“Where will you live?” asked Paddy.

Berne suddenly stopped hugging Trixie, who said, “That’s the best bit.”

“Is it?” Bernie asked.

“I have been given a room at Mount Busby, I was shown it today. Its adorable and the views are to die for.”

“Oh Trixie!” Bernie was back around her friend’s neck. 

“This calls for champagne, Paddy! or at least a bottle of Prosecco.” Evie realized as soon as she had said it, she had made a mistake; this was her first meeting with the engaging stranger.

Trixie was the one to rescue the situation, “Please do, I have been surrounded by champagne all day, one more bottle won't make a difference.”

“That is a good point chick, me, Berns and Luce would probably be sick if we had to pour another glass of bubbles.” Val chipped in.

“I know what we do have,” Vi piped up, “too many cakes for tomorrow.”

“How can you have too many cakes?” asked Fred.

“I am sure we can cut into one now,” Vi continued.

“Brilliant idea I am on it,” Val was off, but called back by Vi.

“Valerie, while you're in there, can you check I have done enough hard boiled eggs. I have another dozen in the larder, if you're not sure.”

Evie interrupted, “It was like a sauna in there earlier, you must have boiled six dozen.”

Vi folded her arms and shuffled her ample bosom, “What with decorating, rolling, hunting and jarping, you mark my words, you will be glad I did.”

Val laughed at Vi’s indignation and commitment, “Look if we have over catered they are eggs, I am sure they won’t go to waste.”

“Couldn’t you pickle any surplus and sell them behind the bar?” Everyone’s attention was now on Reverend Julia, “My father always brought pickled eggs home from the pub on a Friday night, one each for me and my brothers and sisters and a bottle of ginger beer.”

“That is an Egg-cellent idea, Vicar,” agreed Fred.

The collective grown ended the great boiled egg debate. Phyllis was watching Mrs Hereward still writing and just hoped she hadn’t recorded the last ten minutes of conversation.

Paddy thought that Bernie must be genuinely pleased at Trixies news, because she seemed to forget where she was, and plonked herself down on Paddy’s knee again. While everyone was discussing the many uses for a hard boiled egg, Paddy wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into to him.

“Happy?” he whispered.

Bernie paused for a moment, tilted her head and gave a little smile meant just for him and nodded.

Phyllis cleared his throat, “So if we ever get this meeting started, the first Poplar-on-Tweaven, Church and Crown, Easter Festival, takes place tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Love the Turners for making such a difference. You are all brilliant for reading, Easter Sunday to follow.


	4. Easter Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter and thank you for your time 🐣🐥🐰💕

**Here's someone who really loves you. Don't ever go away.That's what these walls would say. (If These Old Walls Could Speak, Jimmy Webb)**

“Right over left, round and then through,” Fred repeated again, as he secured Reggie’s tie. “You will get the hang of it son, easy when you knows how.”

“Thanks Uncle Fred,” Reggie was determined, he would master the tricky accessory by the end of the day. It couldn’t be more of a skill then changing a beer barrel and he could do that.

“Oh look at you two, all suited and booted, don’t you look smart,” Violet emerged from the Crown kitchen, wearing the dress and coat she had worn for Chummy’s wedding.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Violet,” beamed a perfectly groomed Val in a coral trouser suit and cream silken vest top. 

“Who has one of those phone things, that takes a picture?” Evie asked smoothing down a new floral dress she had treat herself to.

“Everyone Evie,” Val laughed, “Except you and Paddy.”

“Must be a pub thing,” added Jack coming through the door, to cries of dismay.

“Jack, you are in jeans,” cried Vi.

“Talk about letting the side down,” remarked Fred.

Jack looked abashed, but added, “Thought I would stay behind, make sure no-one breaks in and steals all the eggs.”

“Jack, you know Paddy want’s us all to attend Easter Service this morning. If we are having a joint Easter Festival this year, it starts at ten o’clock at St. Preservus,” admonished Vi.

Jack looked at his trainers, that were at least clean. 

“Let’s say no more about it, you will have to do,” Evie concluded.

The last member of the party, had arrived through the door marked Private, that led to the living quarters of the Crown. Paddy gave a harsh look at Jack, but said nothing.

“You always scrub up well Mr. T, you should wear suits more often,” Blushed Vi followed by Paddy.

Val brought him back down to earth, “Would you like me to do your hair?”

Paddy gave Val the look reserved just for her and her cheek, the one that kept her quiet for about five seconds.

“Right then, is everybody ready?” another glance at a fidgety Jack, Paddy continued, “Bernie and Tim are meeting us there.”

xxxx

The Crown seven shuffled into the the pew at the back of Saint Preservus, led in by Vi and ushered in by Paddy, bringing up the rear. 

“Hello, I see the naughty pew has been taken this morning,” beamed Peter Noakes, ”that is usually reserved for the Noakes family.”

“Have we stolen your seat?” laughed Paddy.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t the Crown, there won’t be a fight,” joked Peter as he and Camilla sat in front. Phyllis accompanying Lady Keville with aromatherapist Jane Sutton, “looks like that’s the Crown pew this morning,” Phyllis winked at Paddy.

“Shove up!” the southern accent demanded, faintly attempting the local dialect.

“Trixie, that’s the pub pew this morning, come and join us,” Chummy suggested.

Paddy had already shifted for Trixie to sit down,

“I am representing Bernie,” Trixie grinned.

“Trixie is Team Crown,” Val added on the other side of Paddy. 

“You ready for today, Trixie?” Paddy asked.

“I think so, I have some understanding of an egg hunt and even the hill rolling, but jarping remains a mystery to me,” Trixie informed him in all seriousness.

Paddy leaned in and kept his voice low, aware of his surroundings.

“Right then, the Crown and Church Easter Jarping Tournament, or as it was formerly known, the Crown Inn Easter Jarping Tournament, it's very easy to understand the rules.”

“I believe you,” Trixie smiled, but not laughed.

Paddy leant forward in an attempt to not be overheard and Trixie followed him, “It is played in a knock-out format, like the FA Cup.” Trixie nodded she understood, Paddy continued his voice below his usual range, “Each contestant selects a hard boiled egg prepared by a neutral source.” Trixie nodded she was following, “Competitors divide into pairs. One is the holder or Jarpee and the other is the thruster or Jarper. You following Trix?”

“I think so?” she whispered back, her cheeks slightly flushed. Paddy swallowed and continued at the lower vibration, 

“The holder grasps their egg with their dominant hand revealing just the tip. The Jarper holds their egg also in their dominant hand. The Jarper needs to know they can make a firm contact with the other egg, so gently rubs the end of their tool against the opponents to ensure the certainty of contact. So the Jarper has one attempt to make a clean strike. You following?” Paddy paused.

“Yes,” Trixie assured in a rather higher pitch than she intended, “It’s very warm in here, or is it just me?” she added removing her scarf. Paddy nodded still sat forwards whispering into Trixie’s ear.

“The pair then swap places and repeat this series of events. Everyone has a turn with everyone else. Once both tips of your egg are cracked you are eliminated. The winner is the final competitor to have at least one end in tact.”

The congregation hushed as Tom Hereward arrived in the pulpit, to start the service, just as Chummy who was sat directly in front of Paddy and Trixie exclaimed a little too loudly, “I’ve never been more aroused.”

Timothy Turner sat at the organ, couldn’t help turn toward the back of the church to see where all the sniggering was coming from. To be honest, he knew exactly where the laughter was coming from, but he had to look. Lucille, in front of her choir, exchanged glances and they shrugged their shoulders. He looked at Bernie who was shaking her head and glaring at the back of the church. Tom Hereward was looking a little flushed and said, “Shall we begin.” 

xxxx

Back at the Crown it was all stations go. Violet gave a wicker basket to Fred,

“These are the onion peel dyed eggs, for egg rolling down Crown Bank. Take them to the back of the pub and remember it is one egg per child.”

“I wondered where that pong of onions was coming from, they do look pretty though, but don’t half _pen and ink_ ,” the brewer preferred a more hoppy odour.

“Jack, you take these plain eggs to the beer garden, there is a table set up with colouring pens and markers for the more artistic types. Remember one egg per child,” Jack nodded at Violet to reassure her he had got it.

“That leaves the jarpers for later. The Church are in charge of the Easter Egg Hunt around the village. I just hope they haven’t made it too difficult for the little ones,” Violet took a breath.

“I think it was Tim and Lucille who hid them, so should be all right Vi,” Val reassured with a wink. 

xxxx

“So I just drop my egg down the bank?” 

“Trixie, you must have rolled an Easter Egg before?” Bernie thought her friend was deliberately being dense.

“You mean one smelling of onions, can’t say I have,” Poplar's latest resident snapped back.

“No wonder you want to shot them away down the hill,” laughed Fred.

“What is the point?” Trixie wasn’t satisfied.

“It’s just a laugh, you race your pals and see how many times you can roll it, before it cracks,” Bernie was losing patience.

“Represents the stone rolling away from the tomb,” Paddy interjected, Bernie made a shocked face and Paddy grabbed her by the waist and said, “What? I am not a complete heathen,” threatening to roll her down the hill.

“So once I have rolled this, I have to go down the hill, retrieve it and if it hasn’t cracked, do it again, until it does?” Trixie said, keeping a wide berth from wrestling Paddy and Bernie, the latter now screaming.

Fred feeling a bit awkward himself with the tactileness of the moment, nodded at Trixie,

“Better get a move on love, don’t want to miss the start of the duck race.”

“Sorry?”

“The duck race down the Tweaven, first duck to Mount Busby wins.”

Paddy interrupted, suddenly letting go of Bernie, who actually did stagger a few feet down hill before achieving traction. “My favourite bit,” he grinned.

“You race real ducks, that is medieval,” protested Trixie.

“This from the Poplar sheep rustler,” corrected Paddy.

Bernie saved the situation and herself from joining the eggs at the bottom of the hill,

“They are not real ducks, Trixie, you know those ones you put in your bath, those rubber ones. You put your mark on one and the first one Reggie spots at the farm, wins.”

“Who has a bath these days? Haven't you all got showers yet?” Trixie was confused.

Paddy huffed. Bernie added, “You might be the one at the farm, waiting for a duck next year.”

“I don’t think that is in my job description,” Trixie added, but she didn’t look convinced.

Fred and Paddy were trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, “Fancy a pint, Fred?” 

“Not arf, Doc,” he replied already heading for the pub.

“You are all as cracked as these eggs,” Trixie said delicately tossing her egg southwards.

xxxx

Trixie walked back to the front of the Crown and wondered if she was doing the right thing moving to potty Poplar. She made her way to the beer garden and was surprised to see her new employers surrounded by sticky fingers and loud chatter. Turner Prize nominee Patience Mount, was decorating eggs with the village children. Also helping a few of the Sunday School class with their fragile Easter bonnets, some of which looked more like caps or helmets. 

Delia, never far away, stood guard over a cardboard box, where a couple of fluffy yellow chicks were being coo’d over. Phyllis was still accompanying Lady Keville, who had brought a large selection of knitted egg warmers in all the colours of the rainbow, they were showing a group of children how to make the pom-pom version of the tweety little critters in Delia’s box. Lucille had been delighted with these knitted extras, and had Tim yarn-bomb Poplar, distributing them around the village, as part of the Easter Egg Trail.

Trixie was feeling a little bit lost. Bernie had returned from the egg rolling in one piece and was now interrogating Paddy, “What were you all laughing at, in church, tell me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he winked at Trixie.

Trixie grinned, “I feel like a vegan in the hen house. What can I do, to help at my first Poplar Easter Festival?”

“Well you are good at sales, you can be in charge of the raffle,” Paddy said as if he had given her the combination to his safe.

Val placed on the bar, a huge cuddly grey and white rabbit, holding a large gold foil covered chocolate egg. Trixie forced a smile.

“There are a couple of envelopes there too; Second Prize is a Mount Busby Alpaca Day Out and third prize is a Meal for Two at the Crown.” Paddy announced proudly and Trixie suddenly connected with her new life. Until Bernie spoilt it,

“Fourth prize is an Alpaca Day Out and a meal at the Crown,” laughing hysterically at her own joke. While Trixie, Val and Paddy refused to. Even though Val’s lips were twitching.

Valerie passed Trixie a tupperware box full of coins “A float; to get you started, they always come with notes.” Trixie smiled a little bit.

xxxx

The sun was lowering behind the Cleveland Hills, cooling the Crown beer garden. The last of the tables had been cleared and the clutter added to the recycling bin. Val was taking orders for drinks, the children had all gone home. The Two Loves had taken Antonia back to Bagnall Hall. Trixie sat proudly admiring, a brightly decorated toilet roll inner with a bright yellow toy chick with a wonky beak, stuck on the top with blu-tack.

“I can’t believe you won the Egg Jarping, Trixie,” Bernie shook her head.

“Beginners luck,” shouted an envious Jack.

“Expert training,” suggested Paddy.

“What are you going to do with your trophy, Trixie?” laughed Val

“Put it on top of Bernie’s telly,” Trixie said emphatically.

“That monstrosity is not coming into my house,” Bernie cried in mock indignation.

“Oi, Tim made that,” Paddy yelled.

“About ten years ago, Dad!” Tim blushed in horror. Lucille and Jack’s laughter adding insult to injury.

Tom and Bobby and baby Hereward appeared, it was the first time they had been seen since church. They had been overseeing the egg hunt around the village and offering refreshments at the church, a role Bernie had envied.

“The church is locked up and the village is litter free,” explained Bobby to Julia who was sipping on a Crabbies ginger beer, emphasis on the beer. 

“Splendid, everyone has worked so hard today,” Julia commented. “That little one looks tired,” she added, observing a grouchy baby in Bobby’s arms.

“She actually needs changing,” Bobby explained.

Val who was passing Evie a pint of Easter Egg ale informed the young mother, “The toilets are just inside Mrs Hereward, the changing facilities are in there.”

“Oh thanks,Valerie,” said Bobby and moved toward the backdoor.

Tom held up a hand, “We should really be getting home, love.” 

“Aren't you two stopping for a drink, we’ve all earned it,” asked Julia taking another sip of her memory.

“No, we better get home and get this little madam seen to,” Tom laughed weakly.

“Be quicker, just to change her here if she's uncomfortable?” Phyllis sipping on a double brandy offered.

“I would rather we went home,” replied Tom curtly. 

“The facilities here are excellent. I should know, I make sure they are spotless every morning,” Evie’s tone held authority.

“But it is 5pm,” Tom’s voice had a higher pitch now.

“Bernie or myself check the loos every hour, if you look on the door, we have to sign to say everything is in order,” Val couldn’t keep quite any longer.

“Look you’re all very kind, but I don't want my daughter being changed in a pub toilet.” Tom’s voice was adamant.

Evie looked as if she was about to combust.

Julia intervened, “Tom, maybe you should get your family home, we have all had a long day.”

“And confusing. I am sorry but I really haven’t seen the point of this. We welcomed everyone to church this morning, for the most important date in the Christian calendar, and then chased them all to the pub. Where is the message in that?”

The youth ministers words left the beer garden in a dense fog of discomfort. Julia looked lost for a moment, it was Phyllis who spoke up, 

“Today was about community lad, bringing the village and the wider area together. These two buildings have been central to this village for over 300 years. It’s about time they came together.”

Phyllis had given Julia time to compose herself, “We will discuss the issues you have raised concerning a joint festival in a meeting tomorrow, Mr Hereward.” 

Baby Hereward was becoming more grumpy and Bobby was struggling to placate her. Paddy who had been very quiet through this most recent exchange of views, offered quietly,

“Mrs Herward, your daughter seems very unhappy. Would you like to take her upstairs to the flat? Where you can have ample space and privacy.”

”Lets go Bobby, I will see you tomorrow, Reverend,” Tom nodded at Julia, Bobby didn’t have time to acknowledge Paddy’s offer, as she was pushed by her husband towards the door.

Someone with not the longest fuse in Poplar, had sweaty palms and a racing heart and a mouth she couldn’t keep shut,

“If yer have issues with the joint festival then that is fine Mr Hereward, as Reverend Lewis said that needs to be discussed between you tomorrow.” Everyone recognised the north of the border twang, that wasn’t done yet.

“But I have issue with your attitude right now concerning this house, it is so much more than an ale house, it’s a place where people work, it is a home.” Tom stopped in his tracks, Bernie went on,

“Your place of work just happens to be the House of God, now we were invited into that house this morning and everyone here, acted in a respectful manner.” Bernie took a breath, there was some awkward shuffling on the garden benches. She was on a roll though,

“You were invited into our home today and I feel you have not returned that respect. To say the Crown isn’t a fit place for a child, maybe you want to take a look at Timothy Turner, he was raised here. Would Mrs Turner have chosen this as a home, if she thought the Crown wasn't a fit place for a child? I think he has turned out pretty OK, don’t you?” 

Tim wished at this point, that people would just remember who he was, and not feel the need to check by staring at him. Fortunately Bernie went on,

“Surely what matters is not whether it is a House of Prayer or a House of Refreshment, but a House of Love. And you can take my word for it, for what that may be worth, this house is just that. There is so much love in this house, I am only sorry yer canae feel it.”

Later Trixie said that she started the clapping, but everyone was sure it was Val, followed by Lucille. There was definitely a “Well said lass,” from Phyllis and somebody, maybe more than one, said her dad would be proud. Was there an Amen? The kids just said, “You don’t mess with our Bernie.” Did anyone notice Paddy said nothing, he just beamed with pride, if pride was a signal the Crown was 5G?

xxxxx

“I am barred from St Preservus.That’s the Mission I have offended and the church in one week,” Bernie complained.

There was only her and Paddy now. The sun had gone to its rest behind the hills. They sat on Frank and Peggy’s bench sharing a secret ciggie, Bernie perched on Paddy’s knee.

“Nonsense, Julia totally supported you. It’s Mr Hereward who should be worried and as for the Mission, does that really matter now, Bernie?”

“Mr. Hereward is young and idealistic, everything is black and white to him, I used to know someone else like that,” she smiled stubbing out the butt of the fag: they hoped Tim would never know about.

“What happened to her?” Paddy said turning her face gently towards his with both hands.

“She came home,” she smiled and kissed him tenderly, in a way that she was just beginning to understand.

“Bernie, you know this can be your home, whenever you want it to be, on whatever terms you want.” He looked at her intently. Bernie knew if she didn’t save herself, she would drown in those eyes.

“You know what I do want?” she kissed him on the forehead and pushed back his unruly hair. He just raised both eyebrows saying tell me?

“Are those pink wafers still behind the bar?”

“Go see,” he laughed, helping her off his knee.

Bernie almost ran to the bar, she found a package wrapped in gold foil with a red bow. She ripped open recklessly, the carefully wrapped box. Only to find a large brightly coloured tin which read _Huntley and Palmer Superior Biscuits_. Bernie’s expression looked like it was Christmas, birthdays and Easter all at once.

“Paddy, I bloody love you.”

Paddy smiled, “Happy Easter, Bernie,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure if many folk enjoy these trips to the Crown, I guess if you are reading this you have at least had go. They maybe more visits to Poplar-on-Tweaven as Bernie nudges me.
> 
> So much love to Love the Turners who provided so many laughs and guidance this Easter.


End file.
